Harold, are you listening?’

‘Hmm, oh, sorry. I drifted off there.’

‘Sandra was just saying that you seem distant sometimes.’

‘Distant? No, not at all. I wouldn’t say that.’ He  pulled himself up straight on the uncomfortable chair and gave Sandra an encouraging smile. It was met with an icy cold stare. He tried to focus on the what the therapist was saying.

‘Even in the time that we’ve been sat here, Harold, I’ve got the feeling that you aren’t fully with us.’

Too right, he thought. Anywhere but here in this beige, clinical room, with the drab curtains, scratched coffee table and claustrophobic atmosphere. He pictured an open landscape, snow-tipped mountains in the distance, green fields stretching as far as the the eye could see. Freedom.

‘Of course I’m here. Whatever it takes.’

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